Show, don't tell
by ZBBZL
Summary: "Oh, the things she does for him."


_Oh, the things twisted twin minds can come up with while tweeting. This useless, ridiculous one-shot is dedicated to Jess (the awesome Jessica237, for those weirdos of you who don't read her yet). Blame her for letting me write this._

* * *

When he sees lashes blinking furiously before eyes open, deep brown orbs staring up at him, confused and shocked and, well – the gleam of those homicidal issues of hers glowing in them, Marty Deeks knows he's in trouble deep.

He has already seen that look before; when he would steal one of her cream-filled pastry, or take the car keys away from her, claiming the right over the steering wheel and the radio for the day and running to slip in the driver seat before she could stop him. He gets to see this a lot, in _here_, too, when she's on the edge of losing control, wanting to kill him if, _God_, he doesn't keep going, _damn it_. That's when he usually smirks at her, this maddening, infuriating smile tugging at his lips upon seeing her in that state of almost _desperate_ want, lips pressed in a thin line, teeth digging into her bottom lip, red and swollen. Those desperate little moans that she can't quite hold and that always reach his ears, only to have the smirk grow wider; his laughing eyes locked into hers, blinking and closing and lost in that haze of need and passion that always blows her mind away, that is too much but at the same time, nearly _not_ enough as he keeps her hanging on, pushing back the moment when he damn well rocks her world.

But, right now, those dark eyes are not looking up at him, enlightened by need, the silent plea for release oh so loud and clear for him to decode. The almost scary, fierce gleam in them makes him want to retreat further away in the bed, out of the reach of her clawing nails or sharp teeth, or just only out of the reach of the previously very wild, but visibly now pissed Kensi Blye.

Lying down on her back, her chest still heaving with every sharp intake of breath she takes, she has her head tilted toward him on her pillow. Lifting a hand to brush her hair away from her face, her voice is shaking when she finally finds it, and speaks. "Did you just – you _really_ just shoved me away, or am I imagining things ?"

Deeks opens his mouth, but words don't come out. He just gasps, and then runs a hand through his hair, scratching at the nape of his neck – something that they both know shows his nervous state. But, at the moment, Kensi doesn't really care if he's nervous or embarrassed or damn scared, because she's the one who's just been shoved back onto the bed. The one who, for the past half-hour, has been locked into the bathroom, trying to look like a decent human being again after the tough day they've had – letting her hair loose in those silky curls she knew he loved threading his fingers into, taking off her blood stained shirt to replace it with little things he had been so delighted to find out she owned, back to that very first night, all those months ago.

It had taken some time to feel pretty – normal again, at least. But, she had succeeded, and Kensi was pretty happy about her current appearance, but then only to come out and find him lying in bed, already fast asleep.

That, in itself, was already plenty annoying, and came in the way of her little plan. But, she could deal with it – hell, she wasn't one to let one small obstacle keep her from doing _and_ getting what she wanted.

Obviously, this happened to be something Deeks didn't want, hence their current situation: Deeks looking at her like she's crazy, and Kensi left wondering what had gone wrong. He had seemed quite pleased, at first, when her lips had teased their way from the hollow of his throat, up his neck and behind his ear, finding that spot that could bring him to his knees any other day (not that she used it too much, because she had the exact same one, and he did know that damn well). He had definitely enjoyed it when she had pressed her body on top of his, arms wrapped around him, hands roaming and venturing up and down his sides as her teeth had dig lightly into the soft flesh where neck meets shoulder. Eyes still closed, his lips had yet formed that familiar cocky smirk, his own arms coming to encircle her, bringing her closer, his face tilting and nestling in the crook of her neck.

_I was sleeping_, he had murmured in her ear, sucking the lobe softly. _Oh, but feel free to stop me, then_, she had replied, showering his face with little kisses, small licks, tiny bites, until her lips had found their way to his, pecking and nipping on his lower lip, eliciting those quiet, breathless whispers that were sheer music to her ears.

And then…

"You took me by surprise," he finally croaks, watching her as she props herself on her elbows and leans back to sit against the headboard, hands gripping the sheets that she pulls over her lace-covered chest. "Kensi. I'm sorry, Kens. You just _– you don't do_ _that_. And, quite frankly, that was weird."

He reaches out a hand to her, but she slaps it away. "I'll have you know that no one ever complained before," she lets out in an angry sigh. "Weird my ass," she adds quietly.

He smiles, but quickly hides his amusement, or he knows he probably won't ever leave this room alive. "That, _baby_," he says, his voice soft and like silk, much to her growing annoyance, besides the obvious use of the term of endearment that makes blood boil inside her veins, "is because you're scary. No one in their right mind would ever tell you anything that could end up with you choking them to death. Most people value their life, you know."

She turns her head to him, and glares at him – and God if he's happy that looks _can't_ actually kill, because the one she's giving him right now could shake much tougher men than himself. Well, thing is, Marty Deeks is used to being threatened on a daily basis by now – in and out of the field, mostly by the very same person who is currently in his bed, wearing almost nothing but this deadly glare (and these goddamn sexy red lips that, though they look so damn irresistible when she smiles, still could lure him into devouring them if she wasn't so pissed at him right now).

"You're not in your right mind, then. Or you want to die." She folds her arms over her chest, holding the blanket tightly against her body. "You – you're _lame_, you know that ? Do you know how many guys complain because their girlfriends act like a starfish, waiting for them to do everything?"

Deeks scoots closer under her lethal glare, but reaches her side of the bed safe and sound. He nudges her lightly with his elbow. "Heh, I don't know. Was it written just beside the article '_How to get ravenously horny in ten lessons_ ?' Because, you _obviously_ seem to have learned that one by heart, you little naughty –"

"End that sentence and being horny will just be a memory for you," she interrupts him, pushing him until he lands on the bed sideways, where he just props his head with his hand, looking at her with a huge smirk on his lips. "Don't look at me like this! I just – you know what ? Go to hell, Deeks! You think you're _oh so good_, right ? Well, sorry to call you back to earth, but you're no god either!"

He cocks an eyebrow at her, a mischievous gleam sparkling in his gorgeous blue eyes. "Oh yeah ? Well, that sure is _not_ what you said last night. Or, maybe was it the night before ?" he asks, rubbing his chin with his fingers. "Oh, no, my bad," he goes on, the playful tone of his voice making her want to literally kill him on the spot. "That was last night _and_ the night before. It's _so_ hard to keep count of all those times when you mistake my name with his."

"You have such a dirty mind I just –", she starts, but he quickly rises to sit next to her again, bringing a finger to her lips.

She narrows her eyes, and seems ready to pounce on him and strangle him, but Deeks just laughs quietly, gently tracing his finger along her mouth, slipping it between the dent of her lips. "Hey now, Kens. If someone is not being very good here, then it has to be you with your dirty talk. Seriously, Fern ?" he asks, and as he sees one of her hands leave the sheets to aim at him, he catches her wrist effortlessly. "Oh, now you really want to live up to Darcy's reputation ?"

The memory floods over her, and she knows damn well that she can't help the flush rising to her cheeks. Oh, how he had teased her about that _ridiculous_ leopard outfit, and those glasses perfecting that secretary look, this _naughty little librarian_, as he had called it.

Kensi Blye is a good girl. Really. She could be sexy and wild – of course she could. But, little bondage plays and sex dungeons definitely were _not_ her thing. And, _well_, she usually didn't need to make that many efforts; men came easily to her, and Deeks was no exception. That one first night had been all about want and need, desperate pleas and breathless sighs and whimpers, his first name, torn and muffled by moans escaping her lips, hers echoing against the soft skin of her neck as he had slowed down, one last delicious thrust ending them both.

And, ever since then, those breathless '_Marty' _had become one of their nightly routines, along with the way his lips and his fingers made her whimper and writhe oh so easily, how one stroke or one lick could turn him into a limbless mess. Dear God, the things that had happened ever since, those crazy things she could do _for_ him.

Oh, how she had hated him last December when he had reminded her with a smile of what she had said months before, that she slept with nothing on unless it was a costume; how he had had to throw a tantrum like a petulant two year-old to convince her to give a second look to the velvet, deep scarlet red little dress with the glowing, furry puffs of white at the hem. How, one puppy look combined with a trail of kisses down her neck had been enough to convince her to give in.

Oh Lord, how she had yelled at him when he took a picture and put it as the wallpaper of his laptop. The very same one he brought to OSP, _obviously_.

There had been that one time in the showers, too – she had bitten down on his lip, hard, trying to hold back the moans that _couldn't_ be heard, Sam and Callen still being in the gym, and who could stop training anytime and come to the lockers room. And, there was his ridiculous obsession of pet names, too. And his maddening smirk. The constant rolling of her eyes. The way he could bring her to the edge, over and over again, keeping her from falling, keeping her in that state of impending bliss, never giving it to her. The way one hand drifting lower, from his back to the front, could force him to give her what she desperately needed.

All of this ? _Routine_.

Not that she minded, of course. Not at all. If routine felt like _this_, if it could make her toes curl with pleasure, if it could bring that gorgeous, real smile on his lips, then she was all for it, body and soul. But, today had been rough. Today had started badly, and ended the very same way. Her car breaking down, forcing them to run to his place and take his, only to have the both of them running late in OSP under the teasing of the guys about the obvious reasons why they couldn't leave their bed on time. And then, a case. A body, a grieving family. Kids. Grieving kids. A teenage girl crying her heart out, tears shaking her body, tears for a dad she had yelled at the night before, telling him she hated him, a dad she would never see again.

Of course.

There had been a hand on her shoulder, fingers running down her arm, closing around her wrist. And then, arms pulling her into his warm body, for a minute, or maybe more, she doesn't know. A solid, vivid reminder that he was there, that the past was the past, and that from now on, there was only moving on. No crying, no shaking; no regrets, no fears, no tears.

It had been a tough day. Exhausting. And now, when life got hard, when life damn tried to rip her heart apart, when her body cried out in pain, when her muscles pleaded her to stop fighting, he was there. Deeks was there, warming her heart, warming her bed.

And, maybe that, as she was caught up in the heat of the moment, she had said something she would have never, _ever_ thought could leave her mouth. Maybe she had tried being sexy and wild on her way to feeling alive after that shitty day.

Oh, well…

"Go away," she groans as he softly nuzzles his face in her neck, gently nipping at her jaw line. "Dirty Darcy is no longer in the mood. What's with you, anyway ?" she asks, suddenly turning to face him. "Guys are supposed to be turned on by this!"

"By what ? You telling me you're gonna –"

She clasps her hands on his mouth, pushing him back until he's lying on his back again, following his fall as she straddles his lap."Shut up!"

He laughs against her skin. "What ?" The sound comes out muffled, and Kensi removes her hands. "It's okay for you to tell me, and not for me to say it to you ? See, that's why you shouldn't talk like that, Kens," he teases, his hands lifting to span her waist. "It's not pretty, and your mouth and lips are too pretty to form words like that."

"You shoved me off of you," she pouts, smacking his chest just a bit harder than needed, though she immediately soothes the hurt. "Had you aimed on the other side, I would have landed on the floor!"

Deeks smirks, and his hands lift just higher up her ribcage until his fingers come to the front, toying with the bow between her breasts. "I would have never let you fall. Or I would have fallen before you so you could land on top of me. You know you like that."

Kensi rolls her eyes and sighs. He knows he's won, though. He knows that other memories are running through her mind now, just along with the shiver he can feel as his hands run up and down her spine as he's wrapping his arms around her, bringing her body flush against his.

"Anyway, you know you don't have to warn me, Kens," he whispers against her lips, his voice low and husky, his hands now drifting lower before slipping underneath the lacy fabric clinging to her slender body, only to run smooth circles between her shoulders, on her back, and lower and lower. "You don't need to say it before. You know I'm the kind of guy who loves proof. Obvious, visible proof. I only believe in what I see, you know that."

"I hate you," Kensi lets out in between sharp blows of air, as he rolls them over, landing on top of her. "I don't want you anywhere around me."

"Tss, hey now. Define around," he teases, dropping kisses on her nose and cheeks. "I'm not around you, I'm above you. And I quite like it here."

"Get off of me, or I will –"

Tired of those filthy words and threats, Deeks decides it's time to shut her up. In the best way he can, his favorite, actually. Shutting her up effectively with the soft, yet demanding pressure of his lips on hers, and that devious tongue darting and slipping in, he smirks against her mouth, and her nails dig in his shoulders.

Well, it doesn't really surprise him, considering the turn of events, and the mood in which Kensi was moments ago, and still is, that much he knows as her fingers leave his shoulders to thread in his curls, pushing him closer to her.

The thinking part of his brain slowly abandoning him, he still does find it in him to remember to remind her, someday. Kensi Blye, all needy and, well, talking dirty.

Oh, the things she does for him.


End file.
